


What Would Happen

by angstytimelord



Category: Hannibal (TV), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mind Games, Spoilers, Stalker Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 19,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8881657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstytimelord/pseuds/angstytimelord
Summary: Will has started a new life in New York, away from his past -- or so he thinks. But his life takes an unexpected turn when John and Harold receive his number from the Machine.





	1. Vulnerable

He had gotten away. He should feel safer. But he only felt vulnerable.

He was here in New York. He was away from Hannibal. That was the important thing, Will told himself firmly. He had started a new life here. He would be fine.

But he would always be looking over his shoulder, always feel as though Hannibal was right behind him, looking for him, ready to jump out at him.

The thought made him shudder. He wanted to think that he had gotten away from Hannibal, but the truth was, he didn't feel that he ever would. Hannibal had tainted something in his soul, and even now, as he pushed that darkness away, he could feel it encroaching upon him.

He just wanted to escape from that darkness, to put Hannibal's sinister influence behind him. He wanted the past to be obliterated, to be gone for good.

He had taken a job in a small used bookshop, even though he knew that wasn't the safest thing for him to do, given that Hannibal could simply walk in at any time and see him there.

But he was also trying to keep as low a profile as possible.

He still had Winston; he hadn't been able to bring himself to say goodbye to the dog who had always seemed to be his guardian angel ever since they'd first met.

The other dogs all had good homes now. He missed them, but he knew that they were better off -- and happier -- in places where they could run around and feel free.

Winston probably wasn't at his happiest cooped up in an apartment in the city, he thought with a sigh. But at least it was a decent place; he made a good enough salary, along with his FBI pension, to easily pay the rent and the bills, and it was in a nice neighborhood.

And he took the dog out frequently, even though he still felt as though he had to look over his shoulder whenever he was walking Winston or letting him run around in the dog park.

He still felt vulnerable. And not exactly happy, either. Until he knew that Hannibal was gone, that such darkness would never enter his life, he would always feel exposed.

At least he had his home secured against any kind of invasion, even though he was always doubly careful to make sure that he was protected, especially at night. He knew that Winston was on the lookout, but still, he felt safer knowing that he had all the newest technology to keep them safe.

Was any of that really any good against Hannibal's wiles, though? he asked himself as his fingers came up to the side of his face, tracing the one scar he still had.

Plastic surgeons had done a great job on his face, getting rid of the ugly scars that had come from the knife he'd been stabbed with. The scars were invisible now.

But he could still feel them under his fingertips if he tried hard enough.

Some scars never healed, he told himself. And his would be a long time in healing, if they ever did. His worst scars were the ones that had never been seen.

That was what he'd gotten from Hannibal in the end -- scars and terrifying memories, and a lot of regrets. He wished that the two of them had never met.

No use wishing that, now was it? he thought with a wry smile. That part of his life was in the past; it was over and done, and there was no use in wishing that it had never been. It had happened, and as much as he wanted to put it all behind him, it was hard to move past those memories.

His life could very well have been ended several times -- especially after that last horrific fall. But it hadn't been. He had somehow survived -- and so had Hannibal.

He didn't know how that was possible. But they had both risen from those waters, battered and broken, but still alive. Somehow, they'd both still been breathing.

Hannibal had taken him to a hospital -- and then vanished.

Will knew that he should be thankful for what Hannibal had done. Without the other man, he would probably have died of his injuries. He'd been in the hospital for weeks.

But he had lived -- and he had told himself that his association with Hannibal was over for good. The next time they met, if they did, only one of them would walk away alive.

That darkness in his soul had almost been allowed to take him over, just as Hannibal wanted. And he had come close to giving into it, to letting himself be swallowed up within that darkness, never to emerge again. But at the last minute, he'd held himself back from it.

He hadn't expected to survive that fall. He had thought that he would be doing the world a favor by removing both himself and Hannibal from society.

Things hadn't worked out the way he'd planned, that was for sure. But he had picked himself up, dusted himself off, and made a new life, far away from his old one.

He'd left that life behind. But the memories had followed him. They always would.

Even now, he had horrific dreams, dreams where he would awaken clutching his pillow, swallowing back the screams that he didn't dare let rise to the surface.

Will took a deep breath, feeling himself trembling inside. Why did he always feel as though he was being watched, being followed, as though Hannibal was still with him, just biding his time until they met again, until he had the perfect moment to spring out and catch Will unawares?

That was how Hannibal worked, Will thought with a shudder. You would think that you were safe, and then, when you least expected it, he would appear like an apparition.

A deadly apparition. One that would fight to the death.

What would be do if the two of them happened to meet again, face to face, here on the streets of New York? Will didn't know -- and he didn't want to find out.

Something, some sixth sense, just told him that he had to be careful, that he was being watched, and that the eyes following here weren't friendly ones.

He could feel that gaze resting on him even now. The thought made him nervous.

Will pulled his coat more tightly around him, wishing that he could become invisible. He didn't want to be seen. Not by Hannibal. Not by anyone, really.

He just wanted to be safe. He wanted to be somewhere that he could feel secure, and he wanted his past to simply disappear, even though he knew that couldn't happen. His past would follow him, no matter where he went. It was a part of his psyche, part of who he had become.

Still, it would be nice to be able to escape from the worst parts of that past, to know that he didn't have to keep looking over his shoulder and fearing for his life.

Not only his life, he thought with a rueful smile. Sometimes, he feared for his sanity, as well.

He'd been thought insane once, and he'd lived through that. He had wondered then if he _was_ actually going insane, but this time, it was worse.

The stress was going to make him snap, he thought, taking a deep breath as he hurried through the crowds around him. Sooner or later, he would break.

And when he did, there was no telling what could happen.


	2. Protecting His Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something about Will Graham that stirs emotions in John he'd rather not have to face.

"We have a new number, John."

John looked up at Harold, aching one eyebrow. "Oh? Do you know anything about the person yet?" he asked, his voice crisp. He had been waiting for this.

Harold smiled, his usual thin grimace that John had come to realize represented a smile. "Oh, I know plenty about him," Harold murmured. "There's quite a bit to know."

"Really?" This person sounded rather interesting, judging by the tone of Harold's voice. John put down the paper he had been reading, giving the other man his full attention. "You've got my interest now, Harold. Tell me all about our new number. I want to know it all."

"His name is Will Graham. Does that sound familiar to you at all?" Harold asked him, turning around to stare at John. "He was in all the papers only a few years ago."

John nodded slowly, remembering the name and all of the lurid details surrounding it. " _He's_ our number? What sort of a mess has he gotten himself into now?"

Harold shook his head, looking at the file he had up on the screen.

"While it doesn't seem possible that he could still be in fear for his life, that is exactly what the problem is," he said with a sigh. "Hannibal Lecter is still at large, you know."

"So you think that it's Lecter who's trying to get to him?" John asked, sitting down in the chair beside Harold's desk. "I would have thought that he'd stay far away."

Harold favored him with one of those terse smiles again, shaking his head. "It doesn't seem that Lecter is one to give up easily," he said. "From what experts have been able to gather, he has an obsession with Will Graham that borders on the pathological."

"Which means that Will Graham is still in danger," John said, nodding. "And he will be until Lecter is behind bars again, or he doesn't exist any longer."

"Right," Harold said, agreeing with a nod. "And it's our job to make sure that Lecter is either dispatched, or put back behind bars. Not just for Will Graham's safety, either."

John agreed with the words that Harold hadn't spoken.

Hannibal Lecter was a menace to society in general. He had to be put back behind bars, or ushered out of this world for good, before he murdered more innocent people.

Well, Will Graham wasn't going to be one of those people, John told himself. He would make sure that the man whose number had come to them was protected.

To the best of his abilities, anyway, he amended. And fortunately, his abilities were prodigious. He'd proven that in the time that he'd been working with Harold, and before, when he had worked for the government. If anyone could protect Will Graham, he could.

He picked up the picture of the man he had to protect, studying the handsome features. He was certainly an attractive man. No one could deny that.

Something within him stirred as he stared at Will's image, memorizing that face. Even in a picture, there was a keen intelligence in those impossibly blue eyes.

There was a stirring in a more primitive part of him, as well -- a stirring that he recognized as being a physical attraction. He had always known that he was attracted to men as well as women, but no man had brought out that feeling in a very long time.

Will Graham made him feel an attraction stronger than any he'd ever had before -- even stronger than what he had felt for his dead fiance´.

John swallowed hard, unsure of just how to deal with this. He'd been attracted to some of their numbers before, of course. But nothing had ever felt like this.

This man opened up something within him that hadn't been touched in years.

And if he could this way from just looking at a picture, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know how he would feel when he met Will in the flesh.

"John?" Harold's voice broke into his thoughts, and his head jerked up, his gaze meeting the other man's. "He's at work now. At a bookshop that's conveniently located two blocks from here."

"Then it looks like I'll be spending a lot of time improving my literary tastes," John said, a fleeting smile crossing his face. Actually, he enjoyed reading; he always had. But it seemed that lately, he didn't have much time to read; he was kept too busy by the Machine.

As soon as they had helped one number, there was another, and then another, and another. It seemed that the world was always tireless in persecuting people.

He and Harold were the only recourse that some of these people had to help them out of bad situations. And it seemed as though that might be the case with Will Graham.

This was a man who had been through far too much.

John had seen him on television when he'd been framed for murder, and then acquitted of the horrible crimes that he'd been accused of, but he hadn't paid much attention then.

Now, he wished that he had. He wanted to know more about Will Graham. For some reason, he found himself wanting to see into this man's soul.

He looked at Will's picture again; just what was it about this man that drew him so inexorably, like the proverbial moth to a flame? There was just an indefinable _something_ about Will that captured his interest and made him want to get closer -- as close as possible, in fact.

John didn't even bother cautioning himself about that. He and Harold had been doing this for too long for him to start questioning those kinds of feelings now.

He would help Will, they might become friends, and then when Will's situation had been put to rest, they would part. that was what always happened in his line of work.

There would be no hope for anything more. There never was.

He had learned to close his heart since he had started working with Harold. Well, long before that, really. He had learned to never let desire interfere with his job.

But this felt like _more_ than desire. Even in the picture, there was something electric about Will Graham, something that called to him, something that tugged at his heart.

John closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He couldn't let himself care about Will Graham, not in a romantic way. Maybe they could be friends for the duration of the time it would take to fix whatever situation had made his number come up, but there couldn't be anything more than that.

He wasn't built for relationships. He had known that for a long time. And he was never going to let himself indulge in one again. He had made that mistake too many times before.

He refused to make that same mistake again. He wasn't going to let his emotions get in the way of his work, no matter how attracted he might be to this man.

That could only lead to disaster, for both himself and Will.

He wasn't going to risk putting his feelings on the line again. He couldn't watch another person walk away from him. He couldn't risk loving and losing. Not again. Once had been more than enough.

"John?" Harold was looking at him strangely, tilting his head to the side, and his voice sounded as though he had spoken before -- more than once. "Are you all right?"

 _No, I'm not all right,_ he wanted to shout. _This man could mean something to me, if I don't keep rigid control over my emotions. I could let the walls that I've spent so much time building up come crumbling down, and I'm terrified of doing just that._

Instead, he only gave Harold one of his small, icy smiles, and said, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He got to his feet, reaching for his trench coat.

"I think I'll pay Mr. Graham a visit at that bookshop and do a little reconnaissance," he said, heading for the door. "And I'll put a tracker on him while I'm there."

That was the least he had to do, he reflected as he headed for the door.

Somehow, he had to manage to rein in his emotions. His heart was already starting to beat faster at the idea of seeing Will Graham in the flesh.

What was _wrong_ with him? he berated himself. He couldn't let himself feel this way. He had long ago closed his heart. Nothing was going to open it again. Nothing.

But something deep down inside told him differently. He didn't know why, but he had the sneaking suspicion that if anyone could bring those walls of his tumbling to the ground, it was Will Graham. There was just something in those eyes that made John want to .... _surrender_.

He took a deep breath when he exited the building, drawing the crisp, cold air into his lungs. Then he headed down the street, towards the bookshop that he passed by every day.

Somehow, he knew that he would be sending a lot of time there in the near future. And that thought made his heart leap, and brought a small smile smile to his lips.

This felt like the beginning of a whole new future.


	3. Waiting For Someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will can't shake the feeling that he was drawn to New York City because he's meant to be with someone there.

He had the oddest feeling that he was waiting for something to happen.

Will looked up at the door of the bookshop, sighing for what seemed like the thousandth time. He had just waited on a customer, and now the place felt empty.

He didn't know why he had wanted to have people around him since he had come to New York, but there were times when he couldn't stand to be alone.

Only he wasn't alone, he thought, smiling slightly as he looked over at Winston in his dog bed behind the counter. The owner of the bookshop hadn't had a problem with Will bringing his dog to work; the man had two dogs of his own, though they were kept at his home.

So Winston came here every day, and he was walked on Will's lunch break. He could take Winston out on his leash if the dog needed a walk, and he was no trouble.

Customers seemed to like him, too, Will reflected. Winston had that enviable ability to make everyone around him love him -- unlike his owner.

Will knew that people weren't naturally drawn to him.

Maybe it was because he was still a bit standoffish, but he didn't blame himself for that. After all that he'd been through in his life, he felt that he had a right to be that way.

He had survived a hell of a lot -- more than most people could even contemplate. Yet he was still here, though it had been a long road that had brought him here, to this place in time. And he was still getting used to the new life he'd made for himself, still trying it out.

He wasn't absolutely sure that this life fit him yet. But he was trying to ease into it gradually, like slipping on an old coat after it had been patched and altered.

Eventually, it would be a good fit. He would _make_ it fit.

It wasn't as though he had much of a choice in that matter, he told himself with a soft sight. He couldn't go back to Wolf Trap, and he didn't want to go back to the FBI.

He missed teaching, but that was something he could live without. What he missed the most was his little house, the routine of the life that he'd carved out for himself there.

But it wasn't safe for him there any longer, so, with a heavy heart, he had found homes for most of his dogs, good homes with people who would love and cherish them, and he'd sold his house. It had brought more money that he had thought it would, thanks to the improvements he'd made on it.

And now, here he was, living in New York City, working in a bookshop -- which he actually _did_ enjoy -- and living alone with just one dog. 

It was a far cry from what his life had been in Wolf Trap, he thought, his lips twisting slightly in a bit of a smile. His life couldn't be more different from what it had been.

At least he didn't have a cannibalistic serial killer trying to track him down and either kill him or turn him into something that he didn't want to be. His life was much saner now; he didn't have to feel that hot breath on the back of his neck and wonder when the beast would strike.

But he _did_ have to look over his shoulder all the time, didn't he? He _did_ have to worry about Hannibal finding him again and trying to force his way back into Will's life.

Maybe he should have accepted the FBI's offer of protection, moved somewhere other than New York, and had his name changed. Maybe he should have simply disappeared.

But he hadn't been able to bring himself to do that. It didn't feel right.

He didn't want to live in isolation again, though being social still didn't come easily to him. He'd had enough of that, and isolation made him far too vulnerable.

If he lived far away from people, as he'd done before, with his closest neighbor over half a mile away, then it would be all too easy for Hannibal to trap him there. He would have no allies, no one to hear him if he shouted for help. He didn't want to be in that position again.

He wasn't going to let himself be victimized. He wasn't going to live his life in fear. But he knew that he would never feel safe until he knew that Hannibal had been completely vanquished.

And besides, something had drawn him here to New York.

For some reason, he felt as though he was waiting for someone here. There was some sixth sense in the back of his mind that told him he _belonged_ here.

Somewhere, in this teeming city filled with millions of people, there was _one_ person who was looking for him. Will didn't know why he felt this way. He just _did_.

Maybe it didn't make much sense, but he had long ago learned to listen to his own intuition. It hadn't steered him wrong often, and more than once, it had literally saved his life. So when that little voice in the back of his head had told him to come to New York, he had taken heed.

And for some reason, even though he was still getting used to his new life here, it felt right for him. He was sure that he would eventually feel comfortable in his own skin again.

Of course, that would take a while. It would be a long time before he could stop looking over his shoulder and let himself relax. Sometimes, he wondered if he ever would.

But he was trying. He was learning. And that was better than nothing.

He was making some headway. At least, he felt that he was. But that sensation that he was waiting for someone only grew stronger with each passing day.

With every person that walked into the bookshop, Will's heartbeat quickened, and he searched that person's face, wondering if this was, at long last, the one he'd been waiting for.

Today was no different. When the bell over the door jangled to life, he lifted his head from the book he was reading and looked over at the door, a smile curving his lips, ready to say hello to the customer and search their face, looking for .... whatever he needed to see.

His blue eyes widened as he looked at the man who had just walked in, a tall, handsome man with dark eyes and dark hair streaked with grey at the temples.

For a few moments, his heart seemed to constrict, his breath to freeze in his throat. It took a few seconds before he could breathe normally again, though words wouldn't come out yet.

Here, standing in front of him, in the flesh, was the person he had been waiting for.


	4. Heart Reaching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is what John is feeling mere attraction, or is it his heart reaching out for something he wants but is sure that he can never have?

At first, John wasn't sure of what to say.

He simply stood there, staring. Will was even more gorgeous in the flesh than he was in pictures -- in fact, that one picture hadn't done him justice in any way.

This was unusual for him. He _always_ knew what to say. He was never caught unprepared. He was always in command of any situation, no matter what it might be.

But Will Graham had him tongue-tied. He couldn't speak for a few moments; all he could was stand there and gaze at Will, until the other man tilted his head to the side, looking perplexed. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, his voice soft, a hint of a Southern accent peeking through.

Those words broke the ice, and John smiled at him, shaking his head. "No, I just came in to have a look around. I love books -- and bookshops," he added, smiling again.

Inwardly, he cursed himself for being so awkward. Why was Will having this effect on him? He felt like a teenager, struck dumb at the sight of the person he had a crush on.

No one else had ever affected him like this.

He'd never had this sort of a reaction to anyone, not in all of his life. No one had ever made his breath come faster, his heart rate speed up, his senses feel so heightened.

Was this simply lust? he asked himself. No, it was more than that. He didn't just _want_ Will; this feeling far deeper than something so fleeting and ephemeral. There was already a connection between him and this man, even though Will might not know it yet.

"Can I help you find anything?" Will asked, his tone polite, but cautious. John realized that he was probably still staring, and quickly turned away to study a shelf of books.

He shook his head, searching for something to say.

Why did he feel like this, so rattled, so unsettled? He shouldn't be feeling this way about someone he'd never even met, especially someone who was one of their numbers.

He couldn't let himself develop feelings for Will. He couldn't go in that direction. He had to think of Will as just one of those numbers, just someone who needed his help.

If he let his guard down, for even one moment, he knew that Will would break through that wall he kept erected around himself -- and he would be lost. He would simply fall at Will's feet, surrender himself, surrender his heart, that heart he'd kept under wraps for so long.

He couldn't let himself do that. It was too dangerous. And he didn't even know yet why Will was in danger. He had to keep his distance, had to keep his emotions out of his work.

John glanced over at Will again, then at the dog who was now standing at his side. The dog looked friendly; his tail was wagging back and forth, his tongue lolling out.

"Gorgeous dog," he said, for lack of anything else that came readily to his lips. He got down on one knee to pet the dog when it came over to him, smiling when his hand was licked. "He's friendly, too," he said, looking up at Will. "Good trait for a bookstore dog."

"His name is Winston," Will said with a smile. "He's kind of my .... guardian angel, I guess you could say." He let out a soft laugh. "A guardian angel with fur."

"That's good, having a protector in this city," John said, getting back to his feet and regarding Will with a steady gaze. "You never know when you might need help."

Will nodded, the smile gone, replaced by a look of wary seriousness.

Those _eyes_. The were the clearest, deepest blue that John had ever seen. He wanted to drown in those eyes, lose himself in them. He couldn't look away.

But he had to, and he knew it. He cleared his throat, wondering just what he could say that would give him some time with this man, an excuse to talk to him, to probe into his life a bit without seeming too forward. And, all right, something that would also give him an excuse to see Will again.

To see him away from work, out of the bookshop, in a setting that could only be described as _romantic_. Yes, if he was honest, that was what he wanted.

And it was exactly what he couldn't let himself have.

Still, he had to find a way to talk with Will a bit. When the phone rang, he moved away slightly, giving Will a chance to answer the phone and talk to the customer was was calling.

"Hello?" John heard Will's voice, then the silence that followed. "Hello?" Will said again, and John knew that he heard a quaver within that single word.

Something was bothering Will; that was obvious from the way he sounded. It didn't take much, knowing Will's background, to realize that he was afraid the past was going to come after him -- and when Will slowly put the phone down and turned around, John could see that it had.

"What's wrong?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light. "You sounded as though whoever was on the phone had something not very complimentary to say to you." 

Will's voice shook when he answered. "They .... they hung up," he said, then he cleared his throat and fell silent for a few moments. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger.

"I think it's someone I knew once -- someone who might be following me."

Now. Now was the time to say something, to get on Will's good side, to let him know that he wasn't alone, that he had a protector when he had probably least expected to find one.

"I might be able to help you with that," John said, his own voice strong and clear. "If there's someone bothering you, I can take care of things and make them keep their distance."

Will shook his head, a stubborn expression on his handsome face. "Thanks, but I'm fine," he said, even though John was sure that he didn't mean those words. "I can take care of myself. And besides, I've got my guardian angel with me," he added, stooping to stroke Winston's ears.

John privately thought that a dog, even one so obviously devoted to his owner as Winston was, wouldn't be much protection against a psychopathic murderer.

"Well, if you ever need my help, I hope that I'll be around to give it," he said, smiling again as he made his way to the door. "I'll be seeing you around, I hope."

With those words, he left the bookshop, cursing inwardly at himself.

He hadn't even been able to say anything that he'd planned to say. He hadn't really talked to Will; he'd been too bowled over by the man's presence.

What was _wrong_ with him? he asked himself angrily. He had no reason to feel this way. He knew that he couldn't let himself get involved with anyone.

Especially not someone who was one of the numbers that the Machine gave them. That was Rule Number One, and it was a rule that he strictly enforced. No matter how strong the attraction, emotional involvement was one thing that could never be allowed. Not in his world.

But Will had barreled into that world, and shattered the barriers that John tried so hard to keep around himself. They were lying in shards, unable to be pieced back together again.

He cursed silently again as he realized that he hadn't even left Will any way to get in touch with him. Well, that just meant that he'd have to go out of his way to be here again tomorrow, didn't it?

And he hadn't bought a book, either. That had to look suspicious.

John sighed softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he stood at the curb and waited to walk across with the rest of the crowd. He was really losing it.

Feeling like this wasn't going to do him any good. But he knew that he couldn't hold back his emotions this time, any more than he could hold back a speeding train, or an ocean wave. He was resigned to letting himself be run over, spun around and around until he was disoriented.

He also knew that he was going to spend as much time with Will Graham as possible. He _had_ to get to know this man. It felt as though his very life depended on it.

Or maybe it was just his heart that was desperately reaching out for what he so badly wanted.


	5. Not A Chance Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will doesn't know why his reaction to the man hes just met was so strong, but he _does_ know that they're meant to meet again.

Will stood there, staring at the doorway, watching the man leave.

Why had his breath almost stopped when this man had entered the bookshop? Why had he felt drawn towards this person, in a way that he never had with anyone else?

Will had been shocked at the instant rush of desire that had swept over him when that man had walked into the bookshop. He could still feel it, tingling through his veins.

What was it about the man that had made him react so strongly? He should have been no more than just another customer, to be helped and treat politely and nothing more than that. Instead, he was still breathing hard, his heart still racing in his chest.

He raised a hand to his heart, still gazing out of the window at the sidewalk where he'd last seen the man, his thoughts on that smooth, firm stride.

For a moment, just a moment, he had wanted to run outside and beg the other man not to go, tell him to come back inside, sit down, and talk to him, to say anything.

He took one deep breath, then another, trying to calm himself down.

He wasn't going to run after a man he didn't even know, Will told himself firmly. All he had to do was wait. He was sure that this man would be back in the bookshop.

He'd said that he would be, hadn't he? Will frowned as he ran their brief conversation over in his mind, realizing that he could barely remember the actual words that had been said.

His heart had been pounding so loudly the entire time, that was all he had heard. Yes, the man had spoken, and he had answered. But the sound of his own blood pumping through his veins, his heart thundering in his chest, had overwhelmed everything else.

Why had he had such a strong reaction to this man? He shook his head, wishing that even now his heart would stop racing, that he could stop feeling so .... _excited_.

This was the person he'd been waiting for ever since he had moved here to New York City. He knew it. He could feel it in his heart, as surely as he could draw breath.

The question was, just _why_ did he feel so certain of this?

He had no idea who this man was. He had no idea why his heart had leaped for joy when their eyes had first met. And he had no idea what to do about how he felt.

It wasn't as though he could just run after this man, after all. Will couldn't even call him; he didn't have a phone number, or even a name. He had no idea how to get in touch.

Will sighed, his shoulders slumping. All he could do was wait until this man came back into the bookshop, and hope that his heart would race and his breath come faster a second time -- because if it did, then he would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was indeed who he had been waiting for.

As he turned to go back behind the counter, he saw one of the bookshop's business cards lying there -- and he was sure that it hadn't been there before.

He frowned, looking at it for a moment before picking it up. Then his heart leaped in his chest again, racing along as though he had just finished running a marathon.

There was a number and a name on it. He didn't know when the man had managed to do it, but he had somehow written this down when Will hadn't been looking.

But _how_ had he done it? Will frowned again, turning the card over in his hand. He had been watching the entire time. And he knew that nothing had been written down.

So .... had this man known even before he came into the bookshop that he wanted to leave his phone number? Had their meeting been something that was planned? Had this man been _watching_ him? For some reason, that thought didn't make a chill run down Will's spine.

To think that anyone else had been watching him with the intent of approaching him made him sudder. To think that this man had been watching him put a little glow around his heart.

Will couldn't keep back a blush at the thought. He was acting like a little girl with her first crush. Not like a grown man who had just .... well, just met someone he was attracted to.

He picked up the card, reading the name. A single word. _John._

No last name. Well, that was a bit odd, but he could live with it. He hadn't even told this man his own name, and the bookshop didn't require wearing a name tag.

But if John had been watching him, could he possibly already know Will's name? Or had he seen Will's picture in the papers from what he thought as the bad times in his life?

He sighed softly, closing his eyes. There was no way to know the answer to that. In fact, there was no way for him to find answers to any of his questions until he saw John again -- and something told him that he would. John wouldn't have left this card if he didn't intend to come back.

And he'd left his number, as well. Will traced his fingers over the thick black numbers, the writing bold and firm. He could call John any time he wanted to do so.

He could pick up the phone right now and call him. He could ask him casually if he would be interested in going out to lunch this afternoon, or to dinner tonight.

No, that would be too forward. It might make him look .... desperate.

He sighed again, sitting down behind the counter, Winston laying down at his feet. He would simply have to wait until John came back to see him again.

But then .... maybe then .... John would ask _him_ out. Will couldn't help smiling at the thought, letting himself drift off into a daydream of what that would be like.

He could see the two of them in nice suits, going into a fancy restaurant -- but no, John hadn't seemed like the type of man who would take someone to a place like that on a first date. It would be too formal, and Will knew that he wouldn't be comfortable in a place like that.

Maybe John wouldn't, either. Maybe John was more like him than he seemed. Maybe under that sophisticated, suave exterior, he was as socially awkward as Will was.

Will smiled ruefully at that thought, shaking his head. He sincerely doubted that anyone in the entire world was a socially awkward as he had proven himself to be!

So that begged the question -- _why_ had John reached out to him?

But still .... John had left his number. So that proved he was interested, didn't it? He had to believe that was what this meant. There was no other explanation for it.

And the longer he sat here with this card in his hand, the more strongly the feeling that John was the person he had been waiting for resonated within him.

There was something about John that drew Will to him, like the proverbial moth to a flame. And unless he was very much mistaken, he'd seen a spark of interest in John's dark eyes. There was something between the two of them, something that Will very much wanted to explore.

He was sure that they'd have the chance to do that, given the fact that John had gone out of his way to leave his name and number. They _would_ meet again.

Will's heart rose at the thought, and another smile came to his lips. He was going to see John again, and he was fairly sure that it would happen soon.

He just had to make himself be patient and wait for the time to come. 

This hadn't been a chance meeting. He was sure of that. There was some power in the universe -- call it kismet, fate, whatever it might be -- that had meant for the two of them to meet.

He would see John again. And he would wait impatiently until that power, whatever it was, brought them face to face again, and he could find out the answers to all of his questions.


	6. The Coldness of Certainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second phone call right after John leaves sends cold chills down Will's spine.

Will's head jerked up when the phone rang again.

He stared at it, not wanting to pick it up. The last time it had run, John had been here, and he hadn't hesitated to answer because there was someone with him.

But this time, he was alone -- and even though he hadn't heard any words, or even something strange like heavy breathing on the other end of the line, he had still almost been overcome with a sense of menace, of walls closing in on him, of someone coming after him.

Hannibal. That was the only person who would be calling him at work and not speaking. Hannibal was trying to intimidate him, make him do something foolish.

Will squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath as he reached for the phone.

He wasn't going to be intimidated by Hannibal Lecter. He wasn't going to let that monster back him into a corner. Not this time. He'd been through that before.

When he had almost died after he and Hannibal had taken that precipitate plunge in to the foaming waves and rocks beneath them, he knew that Hannibal thought he had finally won, that he _owned_ Will. But he had gotten away. He had put that scourge behind him.

And he didn't intend to let Hannibal draw him back into that world again. He wasn't going to give in to that evil, that darkness. He would keep it at bay in any way he could.

The phone kept ringing, but he couldn't bring himself to reach out, pick it up, and speak a single word. There was a coldness in the pit of his stomach, the coldness of certainty.

He was sure that it was Hannibal on the other end of that line. And he didn't want to pick up the phone to find out. He didn't want to hear that despised voice, that broken accent, the voice that would bring back all of the terror that he had worked so hard to put into the past.

But he was at work. He couldn't simply let the phone keep ringing without answering, or he wouldn't be doing the job that he was paid to do. He had to answer.

And besides, it might be John calling him.

The thought made Will brighten; for all he knew, John had looked up the bookshop's number in the phone book and decided to call. It was a definite possibility.

"Hello?" His voice was light and airy when he answered the phone, but there was no answering voice on the other end. There was only silence, as though whoever had called had given up hope of getting an answer and hung up already. Then, he heard the resounding _click_.

A cold chill raced down his spine, followed by another, and yet another. That hadn't been John. He was sure of it. And it hadn't simply been a customer inquiry.

It had been his greatest enemy, trying to track him down. And succeeding.


	7. Strength, Not Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Harold warns John against becoming involved with Will, John pushes his concerns aside -- even though he fears that his friend may be right.

"You're certainly focusing diligently on Will Graham."

John raised his head at the sound of Harold's voice, raising one eyebrow and trying to look casual. "Oh? I wasn't aware that I focused on him more than anyone else."

Harold shook his head, a slight smile curving his lips. "John, I've worked with you for a while now. And I can tell when you aren't telling me the truth." He tilted his head to the side, a worried frown marring his brow. "You know that you can't let yourself become .... involved .... with a number."

John shook his head, wanting to deny that he felt drawn to Will more than he ever had been to anyone. But he couldn't get the words out. They simply wouldn't come.

Probably, he told himself, because they weren't true. 

He _was_ attracted to Will. He wanted to reach out to this man, not just to protect him, but to be something more to him than a person who helped him and then vanished.

"Will Graham is a beautiful man, and I know that you have a weakness for people in trouble, John," Harold continued, his voice soft despite the way that his words fell into the silence like pebbles on the still surface of a pond. "But you cannot get involved with him. It wouldn't be right."

"I'm not involved with him," John snapped, shaking his head. "I'm just .... interested in his situation. We've never gotten a number who was being threatened by a serial killer."

Harold shook his own head in response to John's words. "We don't know that it's Hannibal Lecter who is causing the problem. Don't jump to hasty conclusions."

But John knew in his heart, despite Harold's words, that it _was_ Lecter who was the root of the problem. He was sure that this man was threatening Will, making his life more complicated than it needed to be. And he was determined to protect Will, no matter what the cost might be.

He was silent until Harold spoke again. And the words were something that John didn't want to hear -- because he knew that those words were all too true.

"Will is your weakness, John. You can't get involved with him."

John shook his head again, not trusting himself to speak. He knew that what Harold said was true. Will _could_ be a weakness that could be ruthlessly used against him.

But he didn't want that to happen. He wanted to let Will be his strength, not his weakness. He wanted to let these feelings that had already begun to grow within him out, to let them flower and burst into bloom. He wanted those feelings to lead him to place of light and love.

Abruptly, he pushed that thought aside and stood up. He needed to walk. He needed to think. And he needed to get away from here for a while.

"I'm going out," he told Harold, and left without a backward glance.


	8. Feeling A Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attraction that John feels for Will is too strong for him to pull back, even though he knows that it puts Will in the line of fire.

John walked slowly, hands shoved into his pockets, head down.

He wanted to see Will again, but he was sure that it would seem like stalking if he went back to the bookshop too soon. He didn't want Will to be wary of him.

If he was brutally honest about it, what he really wanted was for Will to trust him completely, and to feel the same sort of attraction that he did. Though it was impossible to tell yet if he _did_ feel that way, John was sure that there had been a spark between the two of them.

He hoped so, anyway. He wanted a spark to be there -- and he wanted that spark to become a roaring conflagration, one that could possibly consume them both.

That was a fire that he wouldn't mind being burned by.

But he couldn't allow himself to feel that way, he told himself with an inward sigh as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and strode onwards. It was too dangerous.

He had known for too long that the work he'd always done was far too perilous to expose those who he loved to the dangers he faced every day. He wouldn't do that to Will. He wouldn't put someone he cared for at risk. He'd done it once, and he had lost everything that mattered most to him.

There were times when he could still feel the acute pain of losing all that had once meant so much to him, of having his life shatter and fall into smoldering ruins.

He couldn't live through that again. But somehow, he couldn't help feeling that this overwhelming attraction for Will meant that he might have been given a second chance.

If he let his emotions take over, then he would be putting Will directly in the path of danger -- when what he was supposed to be doing was protecting the other man _from_ whatever danger was stalking him. That would be defeating the purpose that he and Will had been brought together for.

No, the best thing for him to do was the listen to Harold, do his job, and ignore the attraction he felt. There was really no other option. Not if he wanted what was best for Will.

The problem was that he didn't think he could do that. Not now. 

Maybe he would be able to walk away if he hadn't felt that attraction tugging at him so strongly when he and Will had met face to face. Now, there was no turning back.

Harold didn't approve. He already knew that. But what did it matter what Harold thought? He didn't run John's life. He couldn't dictate how to feel. And John knew that there was no way these feelings he had for Will could be held back. They were like a rushing river in full flood.

It would be utterly impossible to hold back what he felt. And what was more, he didn't want to. He was tired of being alone. He wanted someone by his side. He wanted someone to hold.

He wanted someone to love. He wanted to love -- and to _be_ loved.

He'd been alone for too long. And even in his line of work, love wasn't something that he wanted to go without for the rest of his life. He deserved more than that.

He had already given up so much in his life -- but now that he felt that spark with Will, he wasn't going to give this up, too. He wasn't going to walk away from these feelings. John knew that if he did so, he would regret it for the rest of his life -- and he had no more room for regrets.

Regrets choked him. His past was littered with them, and he didn't want to create any more. He was done with walking away from what he knew he truly wanted.

He had enough regrets already. Will wasn't going to become one of them.

It didn't matter what Harold thought, or what he wanted. What mattered was what he and Will wanted, and their feelings for each other. _If_ Will shared his feelings, John reminded himself.

He couldn't help but think that the other man did indeed feel the same way he did. He was sure that he had seen the same spark he felt in his heart within the depths of those intense blue eyes. Will might try to hide what he felt, but he wasn't good at doing it. His every emotion showed on his face.

And he was good at reading people, John thought with a smile. He was sure that he hadn't read Will incorrectly. He was absolutely positive that his own feelings were reciprocated.

He lifted his head as his footsteps slowed, his eyes widening in surprise.

He'd told himself that he wasn't going to come back to the bookshop today -- and yet here he was, standing in front of it. His path had led him here without him realizing it.

That had to be a sign, John thought as he cleared his threat, then ran a hand through his hair and headed for the front door, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing Will again.


	9. Shadows Over the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will can't help but feel that John has brought some light into his life -- but there are shadows lurking behind that brightness.

Will looked up as the bell over the door jangled.

The attractive man was back again, he thought, feeling his heart leap in his chest. His blue eyes widened in recognition, a smile of greeting on his lips.

It suddenly struck Will that there seemed to be a great deal more light in the bookshop, the day was suddenly brightened immeasurably just because this man had walked in. He blushed at the thought; was it possible that this man could bring the light with him wherever he went?

Of course not, he chided himself. That was ridiculous. No one could do that. But still, he felt much better, knowing that this man had come back so soon.

Why had he done that? Why was he here again?

There could be a lot of reasons why he had come back, Will told himself. There was no reason to think that being interested in someone who worked here was one of them.

He'd probably just decided that he wanted to buy a book, Will told himself. There was no reason to get all wound up just because someone he thought was incredibly attractive had walked into the place. There was no reason for his heart to pound, for his breath to catch in his throat.

But it did, for some reason. And he could feel himself drawn even more to this man -- why hadn't they exchanged names? -- to the light that seemed to gather around him.

He got to his feet, smiling and searching for words that wouldn't sound stilted and uncomfortable. "Hello again. Did you decide that you wanted to look for a book?"

The man smiled back at him, and Will stepped closer, drawn towards the light that seemed to emanate from him almost without realizing it. "I realized that I didn't tell you my name, and that if you needed to get in touch with me, you wouldn't know it," he said, holding out a hand.

"I didn't tell you my name, either," Will said, suddenly feeling shy. "It's Will. Will Graham. Nice to meet you." He held out his own hand, hoping that it didn't tremble.

They clasped hands, and Will had to hold back a gasp.

He was sure that he he could feel the nebula of light that seemed to surround this man growing, spreading out from him, until it seemed to encompass everything.

"John," he heard, the words seeming dim and far away. "John .... Reese. It's nice to meet you, too." Their clasped hands parted after an all too brief handshake, and Will found it hard to pull away. He wanted to keep his hand in John's, to stand there and gaze into those eyes.

Was it his imagination, or had there been a slight hesitation before John gave his last name? Why would there have been? Was he hiding some deep, dark secret?

Suddenly, there was a shadow passing over John's bright light. 


	10. A Fleeting Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's attraction to Will is deepening, and he doesn't plan to turn away from it.

John stood there quietly, watching Will and wondering.

There was something on the other man's mind. He could tell that simply by looking at him. He was sure that Will was afraid of something -- or someone.

And he was sure that he knew who that someone was. Hannibal Lecter, John told himself grimly. That was the only person he could think of who might be on the verge of wreaking havoc in Will's life -- and he had a feeling just from seeing the man's picture that he was dangerous.

Lecter struck him as the type of person who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted -- and John didn't doubt that he wanted Will, in the most basic of ways.

Well, who wouldn't? John asked himself. The man was gorgeous.

But it wasn't just that. There was something else about Will that drew John to him, something that went far beyond the surface, something deeper that simply how he looked.

He could explain why he felt the way he did. It didn't really make sense to him. He just knew that he had never been attracted to anyone in the way that he was to Will Graham.

Was was it about Will that was so mesmerizing? he asked himself. He studied Will surreptitiously, even as he pretended to look at some of the books on a nearby shelf. There was nothing outwardly magnetic about him, except perhaps for his extraordinary good looks.

But those looks .... that face would turn anyone's head.

There was just something about him that commanded attention, an electricity that seemed to surround him like a nimbus, an intelligence that shone from those blue eyes.

Lecter might want this man, but John wanted him, too. And John was determined to keep him safe, no matter what that might take. He would manage to put Lecter out of commission.

A memory stirred in the back of his mind, of a time when he'd said the same thing -- that he was going to be a protector, no matter what the cost might be. 

He firmly pushed that memory away, refusing to countenance it. He wasn't going to listen to voices and ghosts from his past. The past was over and done with. He couldn't get it back.

He had buried the past. And it would stay buried, where it belonged.

Besides, he didn't want to go back into his past. It was too painful to deal with; it was something that he'd made his own peace with a long time ago. He didn't need to pull it out and revisit it just because feelings were stirring within him again that he hadn't had in a very long time. 

Thinking back to the past was only going to take his mind off the present situation, and he didn't need to do that. He had to concentrate on the here and now, and what he had to do.

Right now, his job was to keep Will safe, to remove any threat to him. And he would do just that, he told himself. Will deserved to be kept safe. He deserved peace of mind.

John would make sure that he had that peace, however it was accomplished.

He wasn't going to let Hannibal Lecter, or anyone else, back Will into a corner. Will's enemies might not know it yet, but he now had a powerful weapon on his side.

Of course, he would have to manage to get into Will's confidence, to gain his trust. And John had the feeling that Will wasn't a man who trusted quickly or easily.

But he had to break down those walls that Will had obviously put up around himself. He had no choice in that matter. He had to put his attraction aside, concentrate on what he was here for, and try to work around his personal feelings, even if that was the hardest thing he had ever tried to do.

John cleared his throat, unsure of just how to start this conversation. "Will .... I may be wrong, but I think something's bothering you," he began, his voice soft. "What's on your mind?"

Will shook his head, then looked up at John. When their gazes met, he heaved a sigh and returned to his chair behind the front counter, clasping his hands and looking at John again.

"I've got a problem," Will said softly. "One that I can't solve."

"Then you might want to let me help you with that," John told him, moving to the counter and leaning on it, resting one elbow close to Will's clasped hands. "That's what I do, after all."

"What? You solve people's problems for them?" Will smiled a little, a small, fleeting expression that John almost wasn't sure he'd actually seen. "This is a really big problem, John. It's not one that can just be easily solved and expected to vanish. It's going to stick like glue."

"All the more reason to get help," John told him, his voice stronger now. "If you feel like you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen. And I'm here to help, if I can."

Oh, he could help, all right, John thought. That's why he was here.

He _would_ help Will. If it was Hannibal Lecter who was causing that look of harried concern on the other man's face, then Lecter would be summarily dealt with, and Will would be free.

Just being this close to Will was making his pulse race. All he wanted to do was reach out to the other man, to take his hands and tell him that everything was going to be all right.

He couldn't do that, of course. But he might be able to ease his way into telling Will just what he did for a living, and to make it understood that the whole reason he was here and had sought Will out was that he _knew_ there was some kind of trouble surrounding him.

What he wanted to do was sit down and explain everything to Will, to let him know that he wasn't alone. That he had help, and that he didn't have to fight his battles single-handedly.

He couldn't say anything about the machine, of course. But he could take Will into his confidence in some ways. In the ways that mattered, at least for the moment.

John moved one hand to rest over Will's, their gazes meeting.

The attraction between them, the fire that had been banked, blazed into life; John wanted desperately to pull Will against him and cover the other man's lips in a long, searing kiss.

He took a deep breath, holding himself back. He couldn't kiss Will. Not now, not yet. But something told him it was going to happen in the future -- and that Will wanted it, too. He could see it in those eyes, feel it in the touch of their hands. This wasn't just a fleeting attraction.

Taking a deep breath, John nodded toward the sign on the door. "I think you should turn that over to Closed, and let me take you out to lunch. There's a lot for us to talk about."

After a moment, Will nodded and got to his feet, going to the door.

"I just have to feed Winston, and then we can go," he said, his smile hesitant, a little unsure. "He'll watch the place while we're gone. It's nearly time for my lunch hour, anyway."

John nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. What would Harold think of this? Of course, he would caution John not to say too much, to cloak his feelings, to push them away. But that wasn't possible. Not with this man. Besides, Will deserved to know the truth about why he was here.

He waited while Will fed the dog, then he held the door open for Will to go outside. John followed him, waiting while Will locked the door, then they headed down the street together.

Behind them, in the crowd, a pair of eyes narrowed as they watched.


	11. Optimistic Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The optimism that Will thought he'd lost a long time ago is returning to him in a flood, thanks to John.

Will glanced over at John as the two of them walked down the busy street.

Why was his heart thumping in what felt like triple-time every time he looked John's way? He had barely even met this man. Surely it wasn't possible for him to already have developed feelings.

He had been told so many times in the past that the heart had its own way of doing things, that you couldn't stop it from falling when it wanted to. Apparently, that was the truth.

He didn't _want_ to fall in love, he told himself firmly. He hadn't ever let himself do such a thing. He'd always kept to himself, always kept his heart under wraps, never holding it out to anyone. Maybe he'd missed out on a lot, but he'd also managed to keep himself safe.

But was that what he really wanted now? he asked himself, glancing at John again, his cheeks reddening with a blush when their eyes met and John smiled at him.

His thoughts were stopped in their tracks when they came to the restaurant, and John pulled the door open, standing back for Will to enter first, just as a well-mannered gentleman should.

Well, he certainly couldn't fault John's manners. They were perfect.

There was so much about this man that seemed perfect, Will thought as they made their way through the other diners to a table near the back of the place, quietly situated behind a large plant.

Will slid into the chair, waiting for John to sit down before he spoke. "I come here a lot, since it's only three blocks away," he explained. "It would be a perfect place if they'd only allow dogs."

John laughed softly, his impossibly white teeth flashing in a grin. "I have a dog, too. I think I may have already told you that," he said, raising one eyebrow. "His name is Bear. He's a great dog. I think he and Winston would get along. Maybe they can get together at the dog park one day."

Will nodded, beginning to feel more at ease. He couldn't help feeling that the two of them were being watched when they were out on the street, but here, in this corner, he felt safe. Hidden.

"I'd like that," he said, feeling more than a little shy. "I'm sure Winston would, too. He's not used to be a lone dog. Before I moved to the city, I had five other dogs. He enjoyed the company."

John smiled at that, nodding. "I bet he did. Six dogs? That's a lot of company."

"I miss them," Will said, unaware of how wistful the words sounded. "Sometimes I wish that I could turn back the clock, and go back to living with my dogs, in my little house in Wolf Trap."

The other man leaned forward, his gaze intent on Will's face. "If that's what you really want, Will, I can make it happen. I think I know what's happening with you, and I want to help you make it stop."

Will's blue eyes widened at John's words; he could feel -- and hear -- the hitch in his breath. "H-how can you know what's going on with me?" he demanded, feeling as though he needed to retreat into his protective cocoon, to put some space between the two of them. John knew too much. Maybe he was dangerous.

But the other man only shook his head, holding up a hand. "Don't worry, Will. I'm on your side. And it's my job to protect people. I think I know who's got you so worried. I want to help."

Will couldn't hold back a sharp bark of what might have been laughter. "How can you help me?" he asked, his blue gaze finally meeting John's squarely. "How can you possibly know who's after me?"

"Because I know about your past with Hannibal Lecter, and even though I've never met the man, I know that he has the reputation of never letting go of what he believes is his," John said simply.

Will's shoulders sagged, whether in relief or surrender, he wasn't sure. It sounded as though John knew all there was to know, and that actually made him feel as though a burden had slipped away from him.

Maybe John _could_ help him. Maybe this man could confront Hannibal, and manage to defeat that monster. No one else who tried had ever been able to, but John was different from other people. He could already sense that. John wasn't the kind of man to accept defeat, or take no for an answer.

"He's dangerous, John," Will began, wanting John to know just what he was getting into if he tried to help. "He's not the kind of person you can just go up against once and expect him to go away."

"I'm quite aware of that," John said, leaning back in his chair and regarding Will. "But like I said, it's my job to protect people. And I want to protect you. I want to get him out of your life for good."

The look on John's face told Will that he meant everything he said.

"That's not going to be as easy to do as you might think," Will said, his smile tight. "I've tried that already. It didn't work, to say the least. He sticks like glue. You're right -- he doesn't give up what he thinks is his."

"You aren't his," John said, his voice low and almost savage. Will looked at him in surprise; John had sounded angry when he spoke those words, and there was no reason for him to be.

Unless John was the kind of person who didn't like seeing anyone victimized -- and that was certainly the case with him, Will thought ruefully. He had allowed Hannibal Lecter to drive him from his home, to live in a city where he still didn't feel comfortable, even though he'd been here for some time now.

If he could go back to Wolf Trap .... his spirits rose as he considered that thought, but then, reluctantly, he discared it, slowly shaking his head and meeting John's gaze again.

"I don't think I can go back to Wolf Trap now," he said slowly. "My house is sold, and I don't know if I'd ever want to be that isolated again, even if we can somehow manage to get Hannibal out of my life."

John nodded, reaching across the table to take Will's hand in his own.

"You don't have to go back to Wolf Trap, Will," he said, his voice very soft. "You don't have to try to recapture the past. You can build a new future for yourself instead. That would be better."

For a moment, Will wondered if John meant that such a future would be for the two of them, not just for himself alone. That optimistic thought stayed in his mind, refusing to dissipate.

He might as well face it -- he was attracted to John, and he wanted a future with this man. But that kind of future, any sort of happiness, would never be his as long as Hannibal was out there, waiting to strike. He would always be looking over his shoulder, waiting for the moment when Hannibal would show up.

What he had to do was confront the man once and for all, and make sure that this time, he ended up behind bars where he belonged. With John's help, maybe that was possible.

Then, he could stop hiding. He could stop running, and he could allow himself to have the future that he'd felt for so long wold never be possible. He could finally have a life again.

This time, his mind was made up. He wouldn't let Hannibal stop him.

John had given him an optimism that he couldn't manage to keep by himself. It was much easier to think positive thoughts when there was someone else holding onto them at the same time.

He smiled, turning his hand to that his fingers could close over John's. "I want him out of my life," he said, his voice soft, but strong and firm nevertheless. "And I want you to help me do it."

John nodded, his fingers clasping Will's briefly before letting go. Was it just his imagination, or did John take him time relinquishing his hand, as thought he was only breaking the contact reluctantly? Will asked himself. He wished that the physical contact could have lasted longer -- forever, really.

But that didn't matter, not right now. What mattered was that he was no longer alone in his fight, that he had someone on his side, someone who could help him win free.

The optimistic thought that had eluded him for so long would have free rein now, thanks to John. He could breathe more easily, and he could feel that there was finally some light at the end of the tunnel.

Smiling at John, he picked up his menu, turning his attention to ordering lunch.


	12. First Glimpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wishes that there was a book to help him find a solution to the situation he's in.

John held back a sigh as he pulled a book from a shelf.

Will was in the front of the shop, helping another customer, and Winston was in his place behind the counter. John was doing his best to look like a customer.

But what he was really doing was watching Will. Now that he knew -- or was at least fairly sure -- that Hannibal Lecter had made an attempt to contact Will, he was reluctant to leave the other man alone. He didn't want Will to be taken by surprise, and for this to end before it even began.

He was determined to protect Will from that monster who apparently still haunted his life; he wanted to put Lecter out of the picture for good, no matter what it took.

John didn't stop to think about his motives for wanting Lecter gone.

It didn't seem to matter what his main concern was for himself; wanting Lecter to be out of Will's life would be good for Will, too. He'd be able to sleep at night, to live without fear.

If the two of them began some kind of relationship, then so much the better, John told himself. Maybe he should be at least a bit bothered by the fact that he felt so protective of Will because of an attraction to him, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from doing his job.

Maybe it was past time he began to care about someone, he told himself, sneaking a look at Will helping the customer select a book. He'd been alone for far too long.

If only there was some kind of book that could help him through a situation like this, he thought, his sigh audible this time. But he didn't think that he could count on any sort of help.

No, he would have to muddle through this on his own. He would have to sort out his feelings, and decide if he was doing this for Will -- or for himself. Or maybe, just maybe, he was doing it to benefit both of them. Was there really anything wrong with that, in the long run?

He didn't think so. They would both get what they wanted -- freedom from fear, and someone in their lives to lean on, to share those lives with. It would be a win/win situation.

Well, _if_ that was what Will wanted, as well. He hoped it was.

He looked down at the book in his hand, smiling a bit when he saw the title. He hadn't paid attention to it when he'd pulled it off the shelf, but now it seemed almost prophetic.

 _Great Expectations._ He'd read this one when he was much younger, and a part of him had identified with Pip. He hadn't thought about the book in years, maybe even decades. But he _did_ have great expectations for a possible future with Will, expectations that he wanted to come true.

With any luck, maybe they would, he thought, closing the book and starting to put it back on the shelf before changing his mind and heading to the front counter with it.

He would buy this book, and he'd read it again, for the first time in years.

Maybe, he told himself with a smile, he would even be able to identify with Pip once more -- even though he was now much older than he'd been on that first reading, of course.

As he approached the counter, politely waiting for the other customer to buy their book and exit the shop, he happened to look out of the plate-glass window. He could see a tall, thin man standing outside on the pavement -- a man whose attention seemed to be focused completely on Will.

In a flash, John knew who it was. He didn't have to ask, or wonder. It was Hannibal Lecter, and he was here to confront Will in some way. John was sure of that.

He put the book down on the counter and nearly leaped for the door.

Lecter must have seen him, too, for when he got outside, there was no sign of him. John didn't know how he could have disappeared so easily, but he was nowhere to be seen.

He scanned the people on the sidewalk, sure that he wouldn't find Lecter, but hoping against hope that something would identify the other man to him. When that didn't happen after a few minutes, he sighed in frustration and went back inside the bookshop, going to the counter where Will stood waiting.

"He was there, wasn't he?" Will said, his voice low and shaky. "I didn't see him, but I could swear that I felt his presence. He's here, John. And he's not going to leave me alone."

John smiled grimly, shaking his head in negation of Will's words.

"Oh, he'll leave you alone," he said, his voice sounding menacing even to his own ears. "No matter what I have to do, Will, that monster is going to be out of your life."

He didn't know at the moment exactly how he was going to manage that, but he would do it. He would protect Will; he would make sure that no harm came to him.

Even if he had to challenge Lecter himself, in a fight to the death.

This had only been a first glimpse. Their next meeting, John was sure, would be much more insightful.


	13. Yin and Yang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wants to rid Will's life of the darkness that Hannibal has cast over him.

"He was out there, wasn't he?" Will's voice was low, shaky.

John hesitated for a moment, but he knew that he couldn't lie to Will. He had to tell the truth, no matter how much Will might be frightened by it. "Yes, he was. I know it was him."

Will nodded, the color draining from his face. "I was pretty sure that he was when you took off out the door. I didn't see him, but .... I could _feel_ him. Even though the sun's out, it felt like there was a dark cloud that was spreading out all around me. I've felt that way ever since I met him."

"Ever since your first meeting?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. "You kept up a friendship with him for a while, so I've heard, so he must not have been that forbidding at first."

Will raised his head to meet John's gaze squarely, without flinching.

"When I first met him, I was stupid enough to think that he was a friend, that he had my best interests at heart," he said, sighing softly. "It didn't take me long to find out that wasn't true."

John's heart went out to the other man; he himself had been in that position before -- thinking that someone was a friend, someone who he could trust and count on, and then finding out that wasn't the case at all. Harold was the first real friend he'd ever had, and he treasured that friendship.

Will didn't have that in his life. He had no one to lean on, other than his faithful dog. John wanted to reach out a hand in friendship, to be the person who Will could put his trust in. But he knew that it wouldn't happen overnight, not after all that Will had been through. And he didn't just want to be a friend.

No, he wanted so much more than that. He wanted to have Will in his life for a long time to come -- and he knew that a relationship like that took time to build.

But he could do it. He could make the effort. Will was worth it.

"All my life, I've felt that kind of darkness around me," Will said, a slight shiver going through his body. "I think that, in a way, he embodied everything that I'd always felt."

"Well, he isn't going to wrap that darkness around you any longer," John said, his tone more forceful than he'd intended for it to be. "He isn't going to overtake your life, Will. You came here to get away from him, and I'm going to help you do that. You don't deserve to live with that kind of darkness. I don't want you to."

Will nodded, and at that moment, a cloud fell over the sun, casting one side of Will's face into shadow. Darkness and light, yin and yang, showing clearly on his face.

John couldn't hold back the shiver that crept down his spine


	14. Pursuing His Goal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John knows that he and Will more than likely have very different ideas of how to neutralize the threat that Hannibal represents.

John was more than usually reluctant to leave the bookshop.

He stood near the front, holding a book, watching everyone who came in. 

After seeing Hannibal outside, he was sure that the other man was lurking somewhere, simply waiting for him to leave so that he could terrorize Will again.

There was no denying that seeing Lecter here, so close to Will, had made dark clouds gather over the day. It had only driven home the fact that even when they tried to put a glossy veneer over things by going out to lunch and talking, Will was in danger, and would be until Lecter was neutralized.

John wasn't entirely sure just how he and Harold were going to manage that. Harold would want Lecter in jail, of course. That was how he worked. It was just his way.

John, however, had very different feelings about the issue.

He wanted Lecter out of the way permanently. He wanted that monster out of Will's life, never to darken his door again, and the only way that he could see that happening, given the persistence with which Will had said that Lecter kept coming after him, was for their nemesis to be dead.

Did Will want that, too? John wasn't entirely sure. He knew that Will wanted Lecter away from him, but he didn't think that Will would wish anyone dead, even his worst enemy.

Will simply wasn't that kind of person, and John admired him for it.

But no matter how much he admired Will for being such a good person, it still didn't solve the problem. And it didn't make those dark clouds hanging over them get any lighter.

Lecter wasn't simply going to give up and go away. John was sure of that, even if the machine hadn't given them Will's number and pointed out the fact that he was in danger. It was obvious that Lecter considered Will to be "his," in that twisted, labyrinthine logic that he used.

John was sure that Lecter would be willing to fight for Will.

Well, he was, too, he told himself, looking up from the book that he'd been pretending to peruse. The last customer was just leaving, and Will was behind the counter, petting Winston.

It was a peaceful scene, but John's eyes strayed to the window, as they did every few moments. Ever since seeing Lecter there, he was keeping an eagle eye out -- and this time, he was prepared to do whatever he might have to do to catch the other man and bring him down.

The next time John saw him, Lecter wasn't going to get away. The dark cloud that he cast over Will's life would be erased, no matter what John had to do to achieve that end.

And then, he and Will could start a new life. Together.

Somehow, some way, he was going to make that dream come true. 

Everything he did now would be in pursuit of that goal.


	15. Far Too Involved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is angry that Harold has warned him once again about not becoming involved with Will -- and this time, he's determined to follow his own heart.

"You do realize that becoming too involved with Will Graham is going to be a serious mistake, John."

John didn't even bother to look up at Harold; he'd heard this before, and he wasn't going to pay any attention to the portents of doom from his colleague.

Instead, he just shook his head, turning a page of the magazine that he was pretending to peruse. "I'm not involved with him," he pointed out. "I've only been talking to him. Yes, we're getting to be friends, but that's as far as it goes. I'm not falling head over heels or anything."

Harold shook his head, giving John a pitying look. "Don't try to fool me, John. I know you better than that. You are infatuated with Will Graham. I can tell."

Was he that easy to read? John wondered. Really?

"I can understand how you could have come to care about Will," Harold continued, his voice going inexorably on, even though John just wanted him to be quiet on the subject. "He's a likable person. But you can't allow yourself to become personally involved, John. He could be a dangerous weakness."

John shook his head, not trusting himself to say anything. He didn't want to snap at Harold, and in this case, he was sure that he would say something less than pleasant.

How dare Harold try to tell him how to live his life?

Just because Harold had decided to live like a monk, to never have any love in his life, to punish himself for what he considered his past transgressions, didn't mean that John had to.

And he wasn't going to, John told himself, fuming silently. Will wasn't going to be a weakness. The man had been an FBI agent. He was going to be a strength, someone who John could share his life with, someone who he could go to for ideas and input. Will would be an asset to him.

Not to mention the fact that he was falling in love with the other man.

John looked over at Harold, realizing that the other man was watching him closely. Deliberately, he closed the magazine and set it aside, his gaze meeting Harold's directly.

"I'm going out for a while," he said, shaking his head. "I don't need to be told how to live my life. I know that we work together, Harold, but that's where our association ends. You're my friend, but you're not my mentor. Or my father. I won't be dictated to. Not about my personal life."

Before Harold could say another word, John turned his back and headed for the door, forcing himself not to slam it when he walked out, trying to keep his temper in check.

Will was _not_ a weakness. Being with him would never be a mistake.

Besides, John well knew that his feelings were far too involved for him to turn back now.


	16. Say A Little Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will feels increasingly trapped by his situation with Hannibal, and John offers the only hope of a way out.

He should have known that he couldn't avoid Hannibal. It was an impossibility.

Will realized that his hands were shaking; he resisted the impulse to shove them into his pockets. That wouldn't stop the fear that was coursing through his veins.

Was he afraid of Hannibal? Yes, of course he was. In his enemy's mind, he had done the worst thing that he could ever possibly do -- he had run away, sought his freedom, tried to get Hannibal out of his life. He had taken control of his own life, which was something that Hannibal could never allow.

In his twisted, perverted mind, Will somehow _belonged_ to him, and he had the power to control Will's every move. Now that Will had defied him, he had to be punished.

And Will had no doubt just what torturous, twisted route that "punishment" would take.

He shuddered at the thought of ending up on Hannibal's dinner table, being served to a gathering of people who would have no idea what had become of him. Knowing Hannibal's perverse sense of humor, Jack would probably be one of those people, as well as others who had known him.

Will closed his eyes, trying to push back the fear he felt. Hannibal obviously knew where he worked. It stood to reason that he knew where Will resided, as well.

Was there any way to avoid him, to throw him off the scent somehow, to lead him astray?

He sincerely doubted it. Hannibal had always been good at tracking people down, no matter how well they managed to hide themselves. Even in this huge city, he would be found.

Though he was sure that Hannibal already knew exactly where he lived. That monster had probably been keeping an eye on him for a while, and he hadn't had any clue, Will thought sourly. He had been a fool to think that he was safe here, that coming to New York would make any difference.

He had wanted to start a new life, but it seemed that he hadn't managed that at all.

His old life, the one he so desperately wanted to leave behind, was always going to haunt him. Though John _did_ bring him some hope that things might change.

Could John do that? Or was he only offering a vague hope that wouldn't come to fruition? Will found himself sending up a prayer to any of the gods that might exist, no matter what pantheon they came from, in hope that John was right, and that Hannibal could be put out of commission permanently.

That was the only thing he could hope for now -- that John could help him to rid himself of Hannibal and the malign influence he'd cast over Will's life. He couldn't do it alone.

He had never been a praying sort of person. But now, he said a little prayer for himself. 

Will fervently hoped that his prayer would be answered in the affirmative.


	17. For the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is ready to make a change in his life. But is everyone around him ready for that change to take place?

His attitude toward everything he did was changing.

John sighed softly as he walked along the pavement, dodging people walking dogs, sidestepping shoppers and other pedestrians, looking down at his feet as he moved.

He didn't want to listen to what Harold had to say. He didn't want to be made to feel that his emotions concerning Will were wrong. He wanted to believe that there could be a future for the two of them -- well, as soon as he managed to get Hannibal Lecter out of Will's life.

He knew that wasn't going to be easy. He'd had to deal with people before who were hard to kill, but something told him that Lecter would be the toughest nut he'd yet tried to crack.

But he would do it. For Will. For himself. For their future.

Of course, he didn't know for certain if Will also wanted that future, but he had to believe that the other man felt the same way that he did. He had seen it in Will's eyes.

He wanted to change his life, John told himself firmly. He wanted to take control of his life, and not just let himself be blown by the wind. That was how Harold had found him, and he was grateful for all that his friend had done for him. But now .... now it was time to live his own life.

He couldn't honestly say that he enjoyed what he did. Yes, he helped people. He liked that part of it. But he was tired of putting his life on the line every day, of risking himself.

John had to smile wryly at that thought; he really hadn't minded risking his life on a daily basis until he had met Will. Now, he had a future to look forward to, a future that he desperately wanted.

That future didn't involved putting his life in jeopardy for people he didn't know. There were other people who could do this, who would be just as involved in it as he had once been. But they would be people who didn't have someone in their lives who they wanted to go home to every night.

He wanted another life now. He wanted a life where he was free to love, to be himself, and not have to look over his shoulder every moment of every day.

He wanted to change his life for the better. He had to.

It wouldnt be easy. He knew that. He would have to find a job, and given his backgrond, it wasn't as though he had a lot of experience at anything but putting himself in danger.

And even though he wanted a life with Will, there was a part of himself that didn't want to let Harold down. A part that still felt an exhilaration when he brought down a criminal, when he helped a person who needed it. That would be hard to walk away from. But he would do it. He really had no choice.

He couldn't ask Will to plan a future with someone who was in danger every day of his life. That wouldn't be fair to him. So he had to make a change. And really, he was ready for that.

The only question was if the other people in his life were ready for it as well. 

John sighed softly, looking up and realizing that he was approaching the bookshop Will worked in. A small smile played arond the corners of his lips. He should have known that he would end up here.

He was drawn to Will, in ways that he could never begin to explain. Or maybe he _could_ explain them, and just didn't want to use certain words yet. Words like "love." He wasn't sure that he was ready for that one yet. At least, not aloud. He had to be more sure of the future before he could say it.

His eyes widened as he realized that was the biggest change that meeting Will had wrought in his life. The fact that he was contemplating saying that word aloud to someone again.

That was a change he could see as being a step in the right direction.


	18. What Everybody Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has always felt that he just wants what everybody else does -- someone to love. And this time, he's going to reach for it no matter what happens.

What did he really want out of life?

Will sighed as he leaned back in his chair behind the counter of the bookshop, glancing out of the window. Winston stirred at his feet, yawning and then settling back into sleep.

It was hard to say just what he wanted. He honestly wasn't sure of it. He had thought that what he wanted was to live a normal life, here in New York City; but who was to say what a normal life was? His own life had already been anything but normal; he wasn't able to judge normality for himself.

What he wanted was a life free of Hannibal, but he didn't think that was something he could ever have. No matter what he did or where he went, his nemesis would track him down.

That had already been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt.

But at least now he had John in his life to help him deal with Hannibal. His spirits rose at the thought of John; he could feel a little glow, a clutch around his heart.

It still seemed impossible to him that he could have met someone like John. How could a man like that simply walk into his life the way he had, and take over everything?

Yet that was just what had happened. He couldn't get John out of his mind; he found himself thinking of the other man every waking moment, and even dreaming of him when he slept. Strangely enough, those dreams were comforting, instead of the disturbing nightmares that he was used to having.

He wanted a future with John. Yes, that was what he wanted. And from the way that the other man acted around him, he was sure that John wanted the same thing.

But with Hannibal still out there, could they have a future together? Will knew that Hannibal would try to destroy anything good in his life. He was never going to go away, never going to stop.

There was no way to get rid of him, unless it was permanent.

That was what John was here for, Will reminded himself, shuddering at the thought. Even with all of his work with the FBI, he still didn't like the thought of killing people.

Though Hannibal had tried to kill him several times, he reminded himself. He couldn't let himself forget that. And he couldn't forget all of the innocent people that Hannibal had murdered.

Hannibal was a killer. And whatever justice that John meted out to him would be what he deserved. He had to be made to pay for all the horror and havoc he had caused, for all of the deaths he was responsible for. And if that meant that Hannibal had to die, then it would be a well-deserved end.

If Hannibal had to die for him to have a future with John -- or any kind of a future at all -- then he would accept that, and count himself lucky, Will thought, the words firm in his mind.

He just wanted what everybody wants -- a life free of fear, a home, and someone to love him. And for once in his life, it looked as though all of that just might be within his grasp at last.

All that remained now was to clear the way of obstacles -- namely, the man who was obsessed with him, and who wanted to take that future away from him. Of course, Hannibal contemplated the two of _them_ having some kind of future together, which to Will was no kind of future at all.

He didn't even want to think about what a life with Hannibal would be like. Always lying, always running, always hiding -- and always trying to avoid giving in to the darkness within him.

He wouldn't do that, he vowed to himself. He wouldn't let himself become the same kind of monster that Hannibal was. He would have a life with John. He _would_.

Yes, that was what he wanted. That was what he _needed_.

He had never been like everyone else, Will thought with a soft sigh. And he never would be. But with John in his life, at least he would have someone who accepted him the way he was.

He'd never dared to let himself dream of a life where he was loved and cherished, because he'd never thought that he woudl have it. But now .... things were different.

What was it about John that made him feel this way? Why did this man make him think that his life could change, could be transformed into what he had always wanted it to be? Was it the way that John smiled at him? Was it the look in those eyes, the look that said so much more than words ever could?

He didn't know why John made him feel that anything was possible. But the fact remained that he did, and Will badly wanted -- and needed -- to believe in that feeling.

He would see John today, before the store closed. Then they would go out to his apartment, and they would talk. And maybe .... just maybe .... something would happen between them.

His breath caught in his throat at the mere thought of it.

That was something else that he wanted -- to be loved not only in the emotional sense, but physically as well. And he wanted John to be the one who loved him.

Would it happen tonight? He didn't know. He had no way to tell. He couldn't see the future, after all. His ability didn't include being able to look into a crystal ball and know what was going to happen. But he was going to reach for the stars, and with any luck, he could hold on to one of them.

He was going to have what everybody wanted, no matter what it took. He was going to reach for what he wanted, and this time, he wasn't going to give up.

It might not be easy, but then again, for him, nothing ever was.

Will smiled at that thought, then shook his head.

Except falling for John. That had been the easiest thing he had ever done.


	19. Reaching For the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter what Harold says about the future, John is determined to believe that he can reach the stars.

"You're reaching for the stars, John."

Harold voice came back to John as he strode along the pavement towards the bookshop to meet Will, and the memory of those words made him frown.

 _Was_ he reaching for the stars, trying to pull them out of the sky? Was he asking too much to hope that he and Will could have a relationship once this whole issue with Lecter was over? Was he hoping for too much for his future to think that Will might agree?

John resolutely pushed those thoughts away. He didn't need to focus on any "what ifs." He needed to keep thinking positively, believing that they did have a future.

The easiest thing to do would be to simply ask Will.

But he couldn't bring up something so personal, he told himself. Will might very well not feel the same. There was a good chance that he just saw John as a friend.

No, that wasn't what he'd seen in Will's eyes the last time they'd spoken -- those extraordinary blue eyes that seemed to look right through him, peeling back the layers of protection that he'd built up around his heart and stripping him bare, right down to the bone.

What he'd seen in those eyes told him that Will _did_ feel the same way, that he hoped for a future for them just as much as John did.

Maybe he was reading too much into it, he told himself. Maybe he was being foolish to hope, and Harold was right. Maybe the stars weren't reachable.

And maybe he was just overthinking it all and inviting problems that didn't exist, he told himself firmly. Those stars _weren't_ out of reach. He was determined to keep reaching for them, to pull one down and cradle it to him -- and then to offer it to Will, along with his heart.

He'd never thought in those terms before, not even when he'd been in love a long time ago, before the job that he'd taken on had changed his life forever.

No one had ever touched him in the way that Will had. 

He liked the feeling that Will gave him. It was a feeling of peace, of security -- a feeling that he hadn't had in his heart in a very long time. He wanted it to stay.

It was possible. He had to believe that. He wasn't just reaching for the stars and dreaming impossible dreams that could never come true. He was tired of thinking that his dreams were all for nothing, and that he would be alone for the rest of his life. It was time to stop thinking in those terms.

John felt his spirits lift as he approached the bookshop. In just a few moments, he'd be in Will's presence again, and those stars would seem closer to him than ever.

He was going to keep reaching until he had one in his grasp.


	20. Play Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal might not always play fair, but John may have tricks up his sleeve that his adversary has never even imagined.

Will looked across the table at John, shaking his head.

The two of them were seated in a diner just down the street from the bookshop, a place where the food was good and they both felt safe. Winston was curled up at Will's feet.

"You don't understand," Will said, his voice very low. "He isn't going to play fair, John. Hannibal is .... well, to put it nicely, he's psychotic. And delusional. He thinks I _belong_ to him. He actually believes that I'm his _property_ and that he has a right to .... to have me."

John shook his head in reaction to Will's words. "Well, he's just going to find out that he's wrong about that. And I don't always play fair myself, Will. He's going to find that out, too."

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Will's lips as John spoke.

John watched him, wondering what Will was going to say. He was almost sure that he knew what words were going to come out of the other man's mouth before he said them.

"He's not going to be as easy to catch as you might think," he said, his voice weary. "I spent a pretty good while trying to prove that he was responsible for those murders, you know. And I almost didn't. He almost cost me my life more than once. And he tried to take my life more than once, too."

Yes, that was just what John had thought he would say. For some reason, Will seemed reluctant to pit him against Hannibal, as though he was afraid that John would lose.

Of course, that could be because he'd come to care about John as much as John cared about him, even though he hadn't said anything to that effect yet. Still, it gave John hope.

"All the more reason to make sure that he's out of the way for good," John insisted, pushing his empty plate aside. "You can't live the rest of your life running away from him. You deserve better."

Will bent to scratch behind Winston's ears, something that he always seemed to do when he was overcome by some emotion, or when he wasn't exactly sure of what he wanted to say.

"Nobody deserves to be involved with Hannibal in any way," he finally said, straightening up in his seat again and managing to look John directly in the eye. "This is my problem, John. No matter what you do for a living with this thing about helping people who need it, you don't need to get mixed up in this."

This time, it was John's turn to shake his head, firmly and vehemently. "I'm already mixed up in this, Will, and I think you know that. It's too late for me to turn back. I'm committed to helping you."

Will looked confused, then curious. "I still don't understand why."

John wanted to tell him the truth. He wanted to say "because I care about you and I don't want to see you hurt, and I want us to have a future." But now wasn't the time for those words.

So instead, he chose to say words that would leave the door open to that future, but would possibly tell Will something of why he wanted to help. "It's just what I do, Will. I help those in need. The agency I work for discovers people who need us. And I don't think you can deny that you _do_ need our help."

Will finally nodded, albeit a little hesitantly. "You're right. I need your help. I've always needed people on my side when it comes to Hannibal. And there have been too many who haven't been."

"I am," John told him, reaching out to place his hand over Will's. "Always."

"Then I'll do everything I can to help you catch him and put him back behind bars where he belongs," Will said, turning his hand over to catch John's fingers within his own. "I promise."

John couldn't hold back a grin. This was what he had wanted to see -- Will standing up and fightning alongisde him. Though, of course, he intended to protect Will from the worst of it. The man might have been an FBI agent, but John was the one who was used to being in the middle of any fray.

"And we're not going to play fair, either," he said, squeezing Will's hand and not letting go. "We've got a few tricks up our sleeve that he doesn't have any idea how to defend against."

A part of him was almost looking forward to bringing Hannibal Lecter down.

It would bring him that much closer to Will. And that much closer to a future with him.

Having that future within his grasp was worth anything he had to go through.


	21. Watched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John can feel someone's eyes on him. Watching. Constantly watching.

He could feel eyes on his back. He was being watched.

John slowed his steps, trying to glance around himself unobtrusively. He could feel those eyes boring into him, as though they were trying to see into his very soul.

He didn't doubt who was watching him. It was Lecter. He knew that as surely as if the man had stopped him in the street and introduced himself with a hand held out and a friendly smile.

But there was nothing friendly about that bastard, John thought, sneering inwardly. He was evil through and through, and he was a danger to the man who John was rapidly falling for.

Even if he hadn't developed feelings for Will, he wasn't going to let this monster keep nipping at the other man's heels. Will didnt deserve that. He'd dealt with it for far too long, and it was past time that someone stepped in to protect him from the danger he was constantly exposed to.

It was obvious that Lecter was now gunning for him, given that he had vowed to protect Will. But John welcomed the challenge. He _wanted_ to confront Lecter.

He wanted to remove the threat from Will's life, and give the two of them a chance to have a future together without Lecter's shadow hanging over both of them. 

And more than that, he wanted Will to be free. He wanted those frown lines, those marks of worry, to smooth out and to be forever banished. He wanted Will to be able to smile and _mean_ it.

Will deserved better than to have an albatross like Lecter hangng around his neck.

John turned his head to the side, pretending to look into a shop window. He was sure that he saw someone behind him step behind another person, trying to hide themselves.

He himself was good at that. He had learned, through his work, how to unobtrusively blend into a crowd, how to become a part of the background and not stand out and be noticed.

It seemed that Lecter was good at that, too. Of course, he would have to be, for him to be able to commit the crimes that Will had described him as being guilty of perpetrating.

Those crimes had shaken John to his core. It was hard enough to imagine someone who took such _glee_ in killing -- but the cannibalism made him feel sickened. That was something he didn't want to think about, especially when it came to Will. He had no doubt as to what Lecter had planned for the other man.

Well, that wasn't going to happen, John told himself firmly. And nothing was going to happen now, either. He was sure that Lecter was working alone, and he wouldn't attack John on the street.

Of course, there was nothing stopping the bastard from moving behind him and trying to thrust a knife between his ribs. Though he didn't think that Lecter would be quite that bold in broad daylight.

Still, he was going to err on the side of caution. He couldn't be too careful, not when he was dealing with someone who had such convoluted psychopathy.

What would happen if he turned around quickly and met Lecter's gaze?

John doubted that anything would take place. Not here. Not now. No, Lecter would more than likely simply give him a bland smile and continue walking past him.

No, he wouldn't do that. That would give John the chance to follow him, and he knew that Lecter would protect his back. He would probably go into a shop, or lose himself amongst the crowd.

John wanted to sigh in frustration, but he wasn't going to show how he felt outwardly. He wasn't going to let Lecter know that the silent pursuit was getting on his nerves.

With each step he took, the feeling that he wanted to turn around and confront Lecter publicly grew, even though he knew that would be impossible for him to do. What would he say? Accuse the other man of stalking Will Graham? That would only make people think he was insane.

No, he had to keep moving, and hopefully find some way of turning the tables so _he_ would be the one who followed, and if possible, find out where Lecter stayed in New York City.

A fleeting, sour smile twisted John's lips. Of course, _that_ wasn't going to happen. One thing he knew was that Lecter was exceedingly good at covering his tracks and hiding.

But he could feel his muscles bunching, feel his body wanting to turn around and force the confrontation. It was becoming almost impossible to maintain his usual stoic demeanor.

His heart rate was increasing, his breathing becoming labored.

He wasn't nervous. No, that wasn't it at all. He was letting his anger overcome him. He was letting his emotions get in the way. Harold was right about that being dangerous.

That was something he already knew. In all his years of working for the government, he'd been able to put all of his emotions aside, tuck them away as though they didn't exist.

It was getting harder and harder for him to do that as he spent more time with Will. He wasn't able to keep any of his usual cool objectivity. Not this time.

This was going to prove to be a much harder undertaking than he'd anticipated. Ever since the first time he had met Will face to face, he'd felt himself being pulled towards the other man, and he was powerless to stop it. What was more, he didn't _want_ to. Even if it proved to be his undoing.

He wasn't going to let Lecter get at Will. He would protect the man who was growing closer and closer to his heart, or die trying. He smiled again, shaking his head. That wasn't going to happen.

He and Will were both going to get through this. And Lecter would be behind bars, where he belonged. Or better yet, he would be dead, and out of their lives permanently.

He would make that happen. Though he knew that Lecter would be a formidable opponent, perhaps more so than anyone he had ever gone up against at any time in the past.

He was going to confront this monster. Here. Now. In the street, with people all around them.

John stopped walking and turned on his heel, expecting to see Lecter only a few feet behind him at most, perhaps hidden behind some other people, keeping himself unobtrustive.

He blinked, searching the crowd behind him, ignoring the annoyed comments of the people who had to check their strides and walk around him. He couldn't believe his eyes.

Lecter wasn't there. No one was following him. He was simply walking down the street, blending into the crowd on the sidewalk. He wasn't being followed.

But he _had_ been followed. He was certain of that. He'd felt Lecter's eyes on him, as surely as though the man held a gun to his head. There had been no denying that there were eyes on him, that he was being watched. He'd felt so certain of it. He hadn't had any doubt in his mind.

Now, though, he _did_ doubt. Was he losing it? Was he getting so close to Will that his emotions were taking over, negating all of his training and experience?

John took one deep breath, then another. If Lecter had managed to slip away, then that was his own fault. He should have been more careful, more watchful. He'd know better next time.

Still, this would be the last time that he would take for granted that he could find a way to turn the tables on the man who was his adversary. Lecter was obviously good. _Very_ good.

But John was better. He was certain of that. And he would prove it.

Making a sudden decision, he turned in the direction of the bookshop. He had a bad feeling about why Lecter had apparently stopped following him, and he wanted to make sure that Will was all right.

More than that, he wanted to see Will, to revel in his presence, to rid himself of the feeling of being followed. He wanted to let Will's light in, to let it obliterate Lecter's darkness.

He needed that light. He craved it. He couldn't live without it.

From a distance, a pair of eyes narrowed, still focused on him.

He was still being watched.


End file.
